The weekly messenger. [volume] (St. Martinsville [i.e. St. Martinville] La.) 1886-1948, 1887-09-10
A CITY OF CANAL BOATS.
A COMMUNITY THAT COMES AND
GOES WITH WINTER.
A Residence i'm a Jersey City Basin
A Green Mountain skipper
Housewives Longing for Spring.
From the Y. Y. SUM-

! That is What it does once year. When
the ice begins to lock up the inland
waterways and the breath of winter
blows chill from the north land the bold
navigatOrs of the raging canal turn their
prows southward and follow the flight of
the wild geese ut the rate of about three
miles an hour. The honk of the wild
goose is heard far to the south when the
towpa.h mariner lIauls his craft through
the gap into the Morris Canal basin at
Jersey City ami begins to make things
sItIg and tight for the winter. He finds
| i'll that tide basin. where the mud is
bare twice day except in the channel,
nearly half thousand other boats living
as close together as sardines in box,
and, hauling up alongside the fleet, he
makes fast to his neiohbor and becomes
a part of the oldest winter city in the
world. If he gets in early and has luck
he secures the berth at the wharf, and
the others take their places outside of
his boat as fast as they arrive, and all
are iashed together SO as to form solid
mass. As canal boats are blutf-bowed
and almost sqlare-sterned, there is very
little open space between them, and one
as over n raft. For greater convenience
and to prevent accidental slipping of :.
foot between the sides, planks are laid
from rail to rail and sometimes from
deck to house, and every boats deck is
made thoroughfare for the inhabitants
Of the winter city.
Landing at the western end of the
Liberty street ferry and walking up the
railroad track past the dry docks, where
big vessels are being scraped, coppered,
and generally overllauled, one can look
across the narTow-gap channel and see
the great canal fleet as one vast deck
with innumerable cabins and houses
built upon it. Here and there, at low
tide; an isolated hulk lies rotting in the
mud, It's broken ribs and shattered
planks telling the story of its departed
usefulness and abandonment to slow
decay. To reach the fleet the
gap must be crossed, and there
is no bridge. Tie traveller who
passes that way has the choice of
three methods of getting from one sec
ton OF the street to the other. He can
make detOur of mile, swim across, or
whistle for the ferryman. On the south
ern hand of the gap is a plain board
sharty and gang plank running down
to small float stage, that sometimes
floats and at other times rests in the
mud. Chalked on the end of the shanty,
III rude style, is the legend, Fair 2
sents." This sign and fat-bottom
punt at the float indicate that the ferry
is maintained here. 4 whistle brings
out the fe-rvman, who will scull the
punt across the gap, not disdaining the
assistance OF passenger who may feel
inclined to take up the two oars, con-
venlently dashed to the tholc-pins, and
pal! few strokes. At the other side, IL
the passenger lac active and the tide low,
he can grasp hanging chain and scram-
bile up the wharf timbers to a rough
ladder, and so up to the street. and If he
he not agile he laay get boost from the
ferryman.
Access to the canal fleet is had from
the wharves on That side of the gap. and
from the gang plank TO the first boat all
the others may be reached. As spring
approaches the boatmcn begin making
repairs and alterations on their craft.
and the sound of hammer and saw is
heard from all directions. On board
one OF the boats near the wharf lank,
grizzled skipper is hauling up potatoes
from the hold and selling them to
peddler whose wagon standsne There
is little of the sailor in the appearance
Of the average tow-path mariner. He
generally looks like jersey farmer and
dresses like one. He never blasts his
eyes, shivers his timbers, or dances a
hoInpipe, although he may be able to |
hold his own in splicing the mainbrace, |
and he knows more about steering a |
mule than about taking his trick at the